


Flash

by xXdreameaterXx



Series: Arrows of Eros [7]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Wall Sex, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 01:54:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5649433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXdreameaterXx/pseuds/xXdreameaterXx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I came here to get the pictures done and then fuck. Not the other way around.” “Well,” he shrugged, “Your hair and make up are ruined now.” From A Tumblr prompt: The Doctor is a photographer and Clara his model for a photoshoot. Clara needs help tying her corset and the Doctor isn't much of a help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flash

**Author's Note:**

  * For [samuraiwarrior](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=samuraiwarrior).



> Samuraiwarrior on Tumblr requested this for her birthday, which is in August. I hope she doesn't mind me being inspired earlier and posting it now.

God knows he hadn't planned on this. He really hadn't planned on this at all. This should have been an ordinary job and above all one the Doctor hadn't even been keen on doing in the first place. But his assistant had called in sick this morning and this fairy shooting for an advert had been planned in advance so instead of postponing it the Doctor had found himself in the studio, utterly sleep deprived and annoyed until _she_ had shown up.   
The model was _fucking gorgeous_. Damn, he had never seen eyes like those in his entire career as a photographer and he had taken pictures of countless models who had all been beautiful but no one had been like her. She had arrived, burst into his studio like a whirlwind with her hair and make up already in place, a clothing bag slung over her shoulder and a name on her lips. The Doctor had heard _Clara_ and blanked out the rest. He couldn't even fucking breathe with her in the same room, much less think straight.   
Luckily she had quickly excused herself into the changing room and the Doctor found himself alone in his studio once more, desperate for some fresh air, desperate for the blood to find its way back to his brain. He couldn't possibly. She was a model. She was a job. 

“Could you lend me a hand here?” the Doctor heard her call from the changing room, “I need help tying this thing.”  
He was reluctant. To be alone inside the tiny changing room seemed like a pretty big risk to take. He had a job to do after all and he couldn't do it while body parts that were not his brain were doing far too much thinking for his taste.   
“Hellooo?!” Clara called again, sounding a little annoyed.   
Finally the Doctor stepped up to the door and opened it, finding his model in a very, _very_ short green dress. Her legs were as pretty as the rest of her, pale and damn smooth looking. She was a bit short, too short for a model but that was probably why they had chosen her to be the absinthe fairy for this shooting. Fairies were tiny. Like her. She probably weighed nothing at all and it would be so easy to pin up her against the wall.  
 _Blood. Brain. **Now**._  
“Can you help me tie this thing?” Clara asked, looking over her shoulder and helplessly holding the ends of the lacing on her corset in her hands.   
_Oh, he'd help her. He'd help her alright._   
After the Doctor had finished looking at her, and he had looked at her very thoroughly, he came to a halt behind her and took the lacing out of her hands.   
“That is a lovely dress,” he said in a low voice, bending down just a little into shoulder. She smelled of Chanel. He wanted to sink his lips to her skin and kiss every inch of her tiny body.   
“Thank you,” Clara replied and immediately cleared her throat. Her voice sounded a little husky. Was she aroused by this? Could he dare to go further?   
He let go of the lacing and placed his hands on her hips. No protest.   
“Tell me, Clara. It was Clara, wasn't it?”  
“Mh-mh,” she nodded. The Doctor noticed how her breathing just got a little bit faster. His cock twitched inside his pants at the mere thought of this fairy wanting him. Oh, how he wanted to take her right then there.   
“Tell me, isn't this corset a little. . . restricting?” he asked and slid his hands to stomach, pulling her against his crotch. A risky move, he admitted that. She could just as well run away screaming. But she didn't. Instead he felt her arse grinding deliciously slow against him.   
“You don't remember me, do you?” Clara's voice sounded a tiny bit amused.   
Remember her? He didn't think he could because the Doctor was sure he had never met her before.  
“The Halloween shooting last year,” she hummed, pressing herself against him. It was getting more difficult to actually hear what she said with every passing second as his arousal grew. Every cell in his body was aching to fuck her. There was no space in his head for any other thought. “I was the one in the scarecrow mask.”  
He remembered now. But he couldn't have known it was her. Not in that costume.  
“How should I have recognized you?” the Doctor asked, his voice strained now in his wound up state. He took a sharp breath, almost moaning as she suddenly struggled free and turned around in his embrace. Not touching her seemed almost painful.  
“I took this job cause I knew you'd take the pictures,” Clara said sweetly, “Couldn't pass up this chance.”  
Suddenly she leaned forward and licked across his throat before her lips settled there, gently sucking his skin while her hands reached for his belt.   
_Lower_ , he thought, his erection now pressing hard against his confining underwear. It must be worse than her corset. Carefully Clara slid a hand inside, grabbing him tight. He hissed at the contact of skin and had to resist the urge to rock into her palm when she started stroking him but, _fuck_ , he was desperate for it.   
“All I could think about during the shoot was you,” she admitted nonchalantly, “I imagined you tearing my clothes off. I imagined you fucking me against the studio wall. I was so desperate for you to be inside me.”  
The Doctor whimpered as she ran her thumb across the sensitive tip. God, he wanted her so much and her talking like that only made it worse. If only she would stop.  
“How the tables have turned,” she giggled and removed her hand without a warning. 

Before Clara had the chance to speak again he crashed their mouths together, not minding her make up or her lipstick. Her back hit the wall behind her and the Doctor pressed her against it with the weight of his body, kissing her fiercely, biting her lip, anything to shut her up. She had teased him enough and now it was time for his revenge. The Doctor would show her.   
His hand wandered over her thigh, being deliberately slow and he found that she wasn't wearing any underwear. The fiend had planned this from the beginning. He bit down on her lip just hard enough to make her wince as he traced her clit with his thumb. His touch was barely there but it was enough for her to feel it, enough for her to press herself against him and certainly enough to make her want more.   
“You think you're in control?” he laughed as their lips parted. He could feel the wetness between her folds but he wouldn't give in to it so easily now that he had figured out her.  
“Yes,” she breathed. Carefully, too careful, he inserted a finger inside her. She was dripping wet already, so slippery the Doctor was sure she didn't feel this at all as he teased her. As much as he would like to say that he had the upper hand in this he knew that it wasn't so. She was so wet, so inviting, so tight around his finger that he couldn't help but think about how she would feel around him. He felt a painful surge run through his lower belly into his cock. Fuck this game, he needed to be inside her.  
“You sure?” he asked.  
“Stop fooling around and fuck me already!”  
The Doctor lifted her up against the wall and her legs wrapped around him immediately, her arms anchoring around his neck for support. She kissed him bruisingly as one of his hands fiddled with his trousers until he had pushed them so far down that his erection sprang free. Grabbing it with one hand he guided himself to her entrance and plunged into her.   
“Fuck,” he groaned as he was surrounded by her tight cunt. God, she felt better than he had anticipated. Oh, how he wanted her, wanted this. Pure craving and need, shameless fucking with a goddamn fairy.   
Clara kissed him again as she started moving inside her, driving in and out of her wet heat with a zeal that had her moan beneath him. Her hands tried holding tight to his neck but lost their grip and she ended up pulling at his hair but the Doctor didn't mind. Not at all. When he moved his lips down along her throat her head fell back against the wall.  
“God, yes,” she keened breathlessly, “Like this. _Mhhhh_.”  
He increased his pace, his initial ache to be inside her growing, transforming into the simple, carnal need to come. That was all this was. Simple. Raw. Almost animalistic. He thrust harder into her, feeling the thrill at the buildup of his impending orgasm in his throbbing member.   
Clara was panting beneath him, her breaths mingling with whimpering as he made her come. Her walls clenched and tightened around him when she attempted to make a sound, yet the cry got stuck in her throat. The Doctor buried himself inside her once again, the feeling of her around him all of a sudden so overwhelming that he couldn't hold back. He cried out, muttering curse words as he felt his orgasm pulse through him, washing out in a wave of release as he poured himself inside of her and finally came to a halt.   
She laughed, her breath still as ragged as his own as he pulled out of her and gently set her down on the floor.  
“Damn, that was amazing,” Clara said happily as she pulled her fairy dress back down, “I came here to get the pictures done and then fuck. Not the other way around.”  
The Doctor looked at her, trying to catch his breath and the clear thoughts only slowly returned to his mind now.   
“Well,” he shrugged, “Your hair and make up are ruined now.”  
Clara turned around to the mirror and looked at herself for a moment before apparently coming to the same conclusion.  
“We can reschedule, can't we?”  
The Doctor nodded.  
“Good. Then we'll do the pictures first and the sex after.”  
He was still too worked up to reply but that sounded like a damn good plan to him.


End file.
